


The Frozen Stars

by JackBivouac



Series: Reign of Winter [4]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Bondage, Bukkake, Clothed Sex, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Gang Rape, Group Sex, Immobility, Interspecies Sex, Knotting, Multi, Other, Paralysis, Rape, Size Difference, Tentacle Rape, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-01 01:46:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18326189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackBivouac/pseuds/JackBivouac
Summary: The adventures of Sen, the White Rider





	1. In the Arms of the Ropers

Vakuul was a roper, a nine-foot, two thousand pound creature with a tough, stone-colored hide and conical shape. Crawling upon his gastropodal belly-foot along the jagged maw of his ice cave, Vakuul appeared to be a slowly moving stalagmite. Apart from the glowing blue eye above/under his toothy mouth and the six, sticky tentacles whipping from his sides.

This particular frozen tunnel he traversed opened into a wide cavern that glistened with sparkling crystals and mineral deposits. There upon the slippery grotto floor was a lifeform he did not expect. Her sleeping breath was amplified by the crystalline ice cave to a sighing song.

The woman, human, was the most beautiful of her kind that Vakuul had ever seen. It helped that her white bodysuit, patterned with feathers, clung to her every curve and generous swell. She was, in short, a work of art, and therefore in need of being framed and displayed.

Fortunately for all denizens of Ivoryglass, Vakuul was an artist. Which didn’t preclude him from first tasting of his raw materials.

The roper lowered four of his tentacles. The first sticky length wrapped the woman’s arms flat to the sides of her chest and waist. The second pinned her wrists to the sides of her curvy hips, her slender hands dangling free. The third bound her thighs together. The fourth bound her ankles.

Vakuul pulled her up off the floor. Her head, unsecured, fell back sharper than he could’ve anticipated. Sen woke with a start.

“Fuck! Not again!” she screamed, finding herself tightly trussed. She writhed and shouted for help. “Gen! Matveius! Zo-whatever-your-name-was!”

Unbeknownst to the captive Sen, each wriggle and squirm kneaded a toxic secretion from the roper’s tentacles. The microscopic droplets seeped through the fabric of her bodysuit and in through her skin. A strength-sapping chill spread through her tightly bound arms and legs.

The fight drained from her limbs. The screams died on her tongue. Sen’s eyes dilated in fear, her breath coming in rapid huffs. She was completely paralyzed in the roper’s sticky grasp.

And utterly helpless as the last two tentacles descended, each bearing the knobby head of a cock. One slipped down the neckband of her bodysuit, tasting her flesh as it slithered down between her breasts. The other pushed through her lips, between her strengthless jaws, and rubbed its fleshy head into her defenseless tongue.

Sen’s huffs sharpened to frantic, nasal keening. It made no difference to Vakuul, now rubbing his second head against the mouth of her anus. The tight fabric of her bodysuit practically invited him into her puckered hole, pressing the crest of his knob through its center.

He snaked his upper tentacle, heated and swelled by its romp against her tongue, from her mouth into the tighter wetness of her throat. Below the belt, the full girth of his knob pushed through her asshole and into the equally tight squeeze of her anus. Tears of fear streamed from her bulging eyes.

Vakuul languorously licked her salty tears with the tongue lolling from his mouth as he pistoned his cocks up and down her shafts, ripping sticky through her fleshy walls. The tearing heat was almost unbearable.

Vakuul’s single eye rolled back into the quivering mass of his body. His cocks thrust harder, deeper, each pound raping a shriek from Sen’s nose and a paralyzed spasm from her anus.

With her entire body drugged and limp, she was completely at the mercy of the sensations of his cocks. That sensation was explosion. Vakuul’s pounding cocks forced orgasm after orgasm ripping through her helplessly quivering body. Her eyes rolled back with his, her shrieks contorting into brutally pleasured moans.

Gluey cum burst from the roper’s knobby heads. Vakuul groaned, pumping every last drop into his captive’s desperately milking shafts. He pulled his emptied tentacles, dripping with Sen’s own secretions, out of her mouth and anus. The woman sagged even weaker in his binding grasp, utterly spent by her raped orgasms.

She didn’t even notice that his tentacles lit with tendrils of frosty magic. A swirling veil of glittery ice crystals rushed out and around her body. Sen smiled sloppily.

“Pretty,” she murmured, ignorant of the roper spreading the tentacles around her body to move her limbs.

Vakuul posed his muse with her arms over her head in a back-arching stretch. Her legs, he spread into a tip-toeing v. Her head, he tilted upward, gazing upon the frozen stars. Perfect.

The swirling ice crashed to a stop upon Sen’s posed body. When the crystalling dust cleared, not a body but a globe of perfectly transparent ice sat in Vakuul’s tentacles. At its center stared the still-living Sen, encased within the ice.


	2. A Snowballing Presentation

Vakuul brought his prized artwork to the great castle of Ivoryglass. The castle was secreted away at the heart of a glacier inside a deep, cylindrical shaft called a moulin, formed over millennia by glacial meltwater.

The adlet guards, humanoid wolves with Arctic white fur, recognized the roper artisan and let him through, their glacier blue eyes tracking the bodysuited curves of his prisoner in ice. Vakuul's tooth-ringed maw tilted upward at the instinctive unsheathing of their red, knotted dicks. It was every artist's dream to provoke such primal responses in the audience.

Vakuul carried his work high and proudly between the slender ice pillars of the sweeping gallery. Thick blocks of translucent crystal in the roof filled the grand hall with strategic spots of light. Ornamental rock gardens lined either side of the flagstone path.

At its end was the large, gravel-ringed throne platform of Yrax, Tyrant of the Howling Storm. A dozen alabaster statues, all depicting the same draconic figure, flanked this throne of the real draconic tyrant.

Yrax, over seven centuries old, was a sixteen-ton dragon stretching thirty-two feet from head to tail. Their scales were frost white, and their head was crowned with slender horns. Finned membranes with the fractal patterns of a snowflake stretched between them.

“My great and terrible Tyrant,” said Vakuul, “I present to you my latest and greatest work, 'Tease of a Slavegirl.’”

The roper held the globe of ice up for his tyrant's appraisal. Yrax plucked the globe gently from Vakuul's tentacles. They held it in both clawed hands with all the delicacy due a faberge egg. The slitted pupils of their midnight eyes dilated as they followed the lines of the slavegirl's arms, the dangling swell of her breasts, the arch of her back, and the curve of her buttocks into the rigid v of her legs.

“You've really outdone yourself, Vakuul,” said the tyrant, nostrils flaring in the onset of heat. “I wonder, did you realize that she's still alive?”

Vakuul blinked his single eye, astonied. “But...that's quite simply impossible. She's a human woman encased in ice. According to my studies, she can't survive without access to air.”

Yrax raised the ice and its seductively entrapped prisoner level with their eye. A black, forked tongue ran across their scaled lips. “She is suffused with the magic of the winter witches and breathes through the ice. Look closely and you can see the fear in her eyes--your artwork, sir, is aware.”

The tyrant handed the globe back into the artist's tentacles for his inspection. Indeed, Sen's eyes darted from dragon to roper with increasing terror at her inescapable predicament.

“How extraordinary,” murmured Vakuul.

“And the potential, oh, the potential,” breathed the dragon. “If you wouldn't mind a collaboration, I have an idea of my own for this work of art.”

“Please, do as you will, my Tyrant.”

With the globe poised in Vakuul's tentacles, Yrax screwed it gently around until Sen's backside tilted upward toward them. The dragon lowered a single claw in swift, precise strokes. The ice slid off the globe, now sheared sphere, freeing only Sen's buttocks and thinly covered holes. Yrax tore an exposing slit in the crotch of her bodysuit with a final, masterful stroke.

“Et voila! 'Tease of a Slavegirl, the Interactive,’” boomed the dragon.

“Genius, my Tyrant!”

“This is but the beginning, Vakuul. Guards!” called the tyrant, “Come rape this teasing cumslut!”

The adlets dropped their weapons and ran down the flagstone path, flinging off their armor into the stone gardens. The adlet at the front of the pack was fully erect when they reached the evolved artwork and impaled Sen's anus on their knotted dick in a single thrust.

Sen's head exploded into soundless screams as trapped as her helpless body in the encasing ice. She was forced to endure pound after burning pound ripping through her anal walls, the adlet's knot beating its swelling mouth.

Vakuul, a generous artist, turned the collaboration in his tentacles upward to support the body of any other adlet who wanted to mount the artwork from above.

A second adlet laid over the ice, hind legs crossing with the first's, tails entwining as they shoved their dick into Sen's raised pussy. Her doubly stuffed and mounted hindquarters helplessly squelched and slapped under the adlets’ raping cocks, the wet, bestial sounds and growls sent the pack into a rutting frenzy.

They slammed and tackled each other against the clear ice of the globe, standing and mounting their pinned partners. Their contagious heat snapped back to the adlets pistoning into Sen's squeezing shafts. With an ice-shuddering howl, they forced their knots through her tiny holes.

Knot against knot, crushing the thin wall separating their thrusting dicks rubbed such a tight, wet, heat into their cocks that the adlets’ tongues lolled from their panting mouths. Drool splattered onto Sen's encased, upside-down body as her penetrated shafts squeezed in head-screaming protest against their brutal tearing. That tight catch wrang the first pump of seed from their turgid dicks.

They pounded into her, filling ass and womb to the brim one shaft-churning plunge at a time. Sen's eyes rolled to the back of her skull at the new explosions of body-wracking pleasure, unable to move an inch in Vakuul's rigidly encasing ice. All around her raped imprisonment, adlets forced their mounted partners to take their pulsing knots. The entire pack howled in heated rut.

Vakuul's single eye filled with joyous tears. Poetic cinema.


	3. For the Love of Dragons

The adlets’ knotting orgy pleased the dragon tyrant, blood flushing and stiffening the massive length of their cock.

“My turn,” said Yrax, plucking the spent adlet guards off of Sen’s exposed ass and laying them gently atop their mounted, rutting fellows.

The tyrant took the globe of ice in both claws and set the heat of their dick against the stretched mouth of Sen’s anus. Her asshole was far too small to accommodate them, but Yrax was far too blooded to give a damn.

The dragon shoved their massive cock into the White Rider’s tiny hole. The frozen globe shook with the force of Sen’s tortured, inescapable screams and the head of the dragon’s cock ramming fine cracks in the ice over their bulge in her stomach.

Her anal walls, pounded to a pulp by the tyrant’s monstrous dick, exploded into clenching spasms along the full length of the shaft her rapist forced her too-small pocket of flesh to contain. Sen’s immobile body wracked with convulsions in the rigid, cracking ice.

Yrax groaned at the impossible tightness wringing their burning cock. With a chamber-shaking roar, their dick pistoned into their captive, ripping through her walls like a jackhammer to batter her stomach against the ice.

There was a thunderous crack between the dragon’s claws. The frozen globe exploded into a chamber-riming shower of twinkling crystals. The freezing cum of a white dragon gushed into the screaming Sen’s overstuffed anus and bulging gut. The White Rider popped off the tyrant’s dick on an arc of snow-white sperm.

She fell into the dragon’s waiting claws. Cum continued to pump from their cock, splattering her entire, crumpled backside, her neck, and her hair. Yrax turned her limp body over in their claws to jizz all over her front, her stomach and voluptuous breasts, her beautiful face twisted in agony.

The tyrant’s glacial eyes dilated at the sight of this work of art plastered and claimed by their cum. They did what any dragon tyrant would in the presence of such lewd indulgence. Yrax tossed Sen’s bukakked body into the air and caught her in an open-mouthed swallow.

Vakuul’s single eye stared wide as a carriage wheel at his tyrant.

“Sorry, Vakuul. Such is the ephemeral nature of art,” said Yrax. The tyrant then proceeded to lick the cum from their claws in a manner that didn’t seem sorry in the slightest.


	4. Death in White

Sen couldn’t scream. She didn’t have the air.

The hot, slimy folds of the dragon’s long, serpentine throat squeezed around her. They crushed her arms against her body and her legs together, pinning them tight. She couldn’t move an inch as the tyrant’s clenching walls pushed her inexorably downward to the belly of the beast.

She couldn’t panic. She didn’t have the air. 

Sen, enveloped in flesh, closed her eyes. There was a knot of burgeoning panic in her burning lungs. She loosed and let it go. There was a churning storm of fear in her stomach. She eased it still.

Sen was a weight and lump between these slimy walls of crushing flesh. The White Rider stilled herself. She slipped, ethereal, from the dragon’s throat.

“Woah!” She caught herself in a crouch, arms windmilling for balance on the palace floor. A cool rush of blessed air filled her lungs.

Everyone in the palace had frozen. The adlet guards stared. The roper artist stared. Yrax, the Howling Tyrant, stared most stymied of all.

“What kind of winter witch are you?” asked the dragon, voice hushed to a chill breath.

“My name is Sen, and I’m the White Rider of Baba Yaga. I’ve been sent here to collect a key, and after what I’ve been through, I’m sure as fuck going to get it. So you can hand it over nicely, please, or…” 

Sen probably should’ve thought of an “or else” before making her grand statement. As it was, she had nothing, yet, somehow, that didn’t frighten her as it would before.

“Or nothing,” snorted the dragon. “No, wait. I’ve got a better one: ‘or I kill you myself.’”

Yrax slammed their claw down upon their escaped snack. Before Vakuul could remind his tyrant that they’d just watched said snack go ghost seconds earlier.

To the surprise of no one but the tyrant, the claw went straight through the White Rider without harming her. Sen stepped back from the talons and shrugged at the dragon.

“I could do this all day. Gimme the key.”

Yrax snickered. “Did you know, little girl, that dragon’s breath is as real in the Ethereal Plane as it is in the Material?”

Vakuul and the adlets scrambled away from Yrax as fast as they could. Sen, eyes wide, sprinted after them.

A freezing blast of glacial magic crashed into their backs. Vakuul and the adlets froze in place, bodies rimmed with crystals of frost. Those unbalanced fell and shattered into gory shards.

The chilling wave slammed Sen into a pillar but the lethal cold rolled off her heaped body. She climbed to her feet, frost crystals falling with a tinkling shatter against the palace floor.

Her void black eyes locked with the tyrant’s. “You killed your own servants.”

“Such is my right, little girl. What of it?”

Sen was silent. She knew now there could be no “or else.” The White Rider had a monster to slay.

She held her hand out open to her side. Without a sound, a ghostly white scythe appeared from nothing. She took its handle in both hands.

“You-you wouldn’t dare!” roared Yrax, blasting their chilling breath.

Sen slid back but kept her feet this time. She snagged a pillar with her curved blade and leaped. Using the dragon’s own propelling force, she swung around the pillar and up into the air. The White Rider’s blade scythed through the dragon’s neck.

Thunk! Yrax’s head hit the floor, their waving neck spewing blood like a hose. Sen was splattered and painted red, but her scythe had already vanished from her hand.

When the dragon’s body stilled, she searched the jewelry with which they’d bedecked themself for the key. There it was--silver, glistening, and only slightly smeared in blood.

Sen smiled and vanished herself, leaving only the ghost of a scent of cream and honey behind.


End file.
